


Wild, Beautiful and Damned

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, M/M, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Gemini</p><p>Blake needs an ally, but the customs on Akhaia require partner-swopping as a gesture of good faith. Blake tries to duck the custom by leaving the women behind on Liberator, but Avon's presence causes unexpected complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild, Beautiful and Damned

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> Previously published in 'Fire and Ice 3'.

"And just what is so wonderful about Akhaia?" Jenna asked.

      "The climate, days on end of balmy sunshine, and the women. Never forget the women!" Vila rolled his eyes up in delight.

      Jenna turned away in disgust. "Is that all you ever think about Vila?"

      Vila eyed the glass he was holding in his hand, and raised it up to the light to fully savour the rich ruby colour of the liquid within. "No," he replied, swirling the liquid slightly and inhaling its scent. "I have other interests too."

      Jenna snorted in disgust and walked over to the food dispenser to dial up a slice of chocolate and kirsch gateau. One thing was certain, the Altas might have built the Liberator, but someone had done an awful lot of modifications to it since then. Jenna was absolutely certain that the Altas were responsible for neither the clothes room, nor the food stuffs on board.

      Finishing his wine, Vila departed the rec room, with a parting taunt to Jenna that she'd get fat. Strolling down the endless corridors to the flight deck, he hummed slightly to himself. He'd been doing some research with Orac's assistance, and Akhaia seemed a perfect place to visit. Blake thought it was an ideal planet on which to try and establish a base. It might be off the beaten track with a small population, but the people were technically advanced, and from Vila's point of view, there were certain other distinct advantages.

      Blake looked up from the printout he was examining as Vila came down the steps onto the flight deck. "You're late. I want you to operate the teleport for me."

      "I'll come with you."

      Blake's head jerked in surprise; Avon standing behind him laughed.

      "Since when did you volunteer for anything?" Avon asked derisively.

      "Just now," said Vila in an offended tone. "You always say I never offer to do anything. Well now I'm offering."

      "And just why," asked Avon, "should Blake want you along in any case? This is supposed to be a diplomatic introduction to open negotiations with the ruler of Akhaia. I hardly think your presence is likely to impress."

      Vila played his trump card. "Well, he can't take Jenna or Cally, can he?"

      "And why not?" asked Avon in a lazy amused tone that suggested that he already knew the answer.

      "Because of the local customs of course. Blake wouldn't expect them to sleep with Halil, would he? So he's got to take a man."

      A smile twitched at the corner of Avon's lips. "But you're hoping that he'll maintain his side of the custom and delegate one of the local women to keep you company?"

      "In the name of good diplomacy," Vila answered hastily. "I mean, Halil might be offended if I refused. I wouldn't want to cause a diplomatic incident, would I?"

      Blake was getting impatient. "Sorry Vila. I'm taking Avon."

      "Some people get all the fun," Vila muttered under his breath.

      

Blake and Avon materialized in the entrance hall of the palace. Avon spun round automatically, almost slipping on the highly polished marble under his feet. Blake wondered how Avon felt without a weapon; he'd vetoed bringing any guns on the grounds that this was a mission to try and establish friendly relations. Taking in his surroundings, Blake noted an ornamental pool with a number of brightly coloured fish; and blue and green decorative tiles on the walls around them. The room was empty apart from a man, who from his manner as he approached them, had to be a servant.

      "Lord Halil will be ready to receive you in ten minutes. If you will make yourselves comfortable, I will arrange for coffee to be brought."

      Blake nodded his head slightly. "Fine." He looked around, and then sat on a low tiled seat that ran around the wall of the room. It was hard to sit on, but not too uncomfortable, and the pool was pleasant enough to look at while they waited. The centre of the room had no roof, and the light streaming in from outside reflected on the surface of the water, making the rounded stones on the bottom look like strange and exotic jewels. Which reminded him. "Avon, did you remember to bring something suitable from the treasure room?"

      "Of course. I still think it's a waste of time coming here though. I cannot think of any reason why the people of Akhaia would want a rebel base on their planet."

      "It would give them protection against the Federation."

      "Don't you mean, attract the attention of the Federation?"

      They'd been through this argument before. The servant reappeared with a tray bearing the coffee, tiny cups of a thick sweet liquid, unlike any coffee Blake had ever tasted. He sipped cautiously, uncertain as to whether he liked the flavour or not. Avon beside him was more positive. He handed back his cup and requested another drink with less sugar. The servant bowed silently and returned moments later with another cup. Avon sipped it cautiously, then deciding that he liked it, drained the little cup rapidly and replaced it on the tray.

      They sat in silence for a minute or so, then Blake got up and started to examine the patterns in the tilework, while Avon studied the fish.

      "Lord Halil will see you now." The servant's reappearance caught them both by surprise, he seemed to have the knack of moving about almost noiselessly. He opened a large metal covered door at the far end of the antechamber, to reveal a long, wide room. The floor was covered in a large carpet woven mainly in reds and blues, the walls were decorated in tiles with a complex design of intertwining vines running from floor to ceiling.

      At the far end of the room, seated cross legged on a low throne was Halil of Akhaia. An imposing man, he was, as far as could be judged, in his late thirties. The long brightly coloured robes he wore were strange to eyes accustomed to Federation styles of clothing, but seemed appropriate to the room around him.

      There seemed to be no sign of any machines or computers. Given Orac's report on the state of the planet's technology, either Halil ignored such things in his palace, or more likely, they were simply well concealed.

      Together, Blake and Avon walked forward and stopped close to the throne. Blake bowed slightly and Avon followed suit a moment later. Blake spoke, "My Lord, I bring you a gift." He nodded to Avon.

      Avon took a step forward and reached into his jacket pocket for the gem stone. Before he could bring it forth, Halil smiled.

      "Blake, I must congratulate you. You have surpassed my expectations. He looks superb!"

      Blake stared at Halil in surprised silence. He looks superb? Blake wondered. He? Syntax aside, Avon hadn't even brought out the gemstones yet.

      Which meant that the  _he_  Halil was referring to was...Avon? Shocked, Blake turned his gaze to his companion.

      Avon's expression was wary, surprise rapidly turning into a cold anger. He was obviously not impressed by either Halil's approval, or his attention. In any other situation, Blake might have found Avon's discomfort amusing, but not now, not with an alliance at stake.

      Blake's gaze flickered back towards the Akhaiaian leader; he couldn't help but recognize the lust in Halil's eyes as the Akhaiaian continued to stare appraisingly at Avon's slim figure. It made Blake distinctly uncomfortable and irritated. Trust Avon to throw a wrench into the works. He felt Avon's accusing stare and met it head on, wanting so badly to yell, "How the hell was I supposed to know Halil likes men?" What he really needed to do, was to reassure Avon that of course they could work around the local custom, that they could explain to Halil that Avon wasn't Blake's property to bestow as he might desire. But if Avon's refusal was seen as an insult, all hope of using Akhaia as a base might be lost.

      "You seem surprised, Lord Blake?" Avon's lips curled at the form of address. "Certainly you must appreciate the quality of the gift you offer me."

      "Rarely," Avon muttered softly. Blake shot him a quick glare. Now was not the time for Avon's temper to be aired. Later, in private, Avon could flay him alive with his sarcasm but not now.

      "He is pleasing," Blake said firmly with a sharp glance back at his increasingly restless companion. "But I was not aware of your interest in such - pleasures."

      Halil laughed. "Then it is fortunate for me that our tastes so coincide. I enjoy beauty in all its forms, male and female. However, male beauty is particularly prized here on Akhaia. You yourself, if not Lord, would be highly favoured."

      Blake flushed at the suggestion, sweat prickling at his skin. Avon was smiling slightly at him, enjoying Blake's embarrassment. That Halil found Blake desirable as well was unexpected. Blake had never thought of himself as particularly attractive and never in terms of what other men might desire. Admittedly, he had begun working out recently, exercising more in the face of a few well-aimed barbs from Avon about his size. But, he reminded himself repeatedly, he did it for himself, not Avon,

      His attention was drawn back to the Akhaiaian leader as Halil spoke. "So, I thank you for the honour you do me in providing such an exquisite gift." Halil paused, gesturing a young man forward. "Josa will show you to quarters where you may freshen up before our midday meal. When you are ready, he will bring you to the banquet hall where we can discuss our mutual interests at leisure."

      "Lord Halil." Blake inclined his head and, after a moment, so did Avon. One step behind the servant, they followed Josa through more ornately tiled halls and impressive entrance ways. Josa paused in front of a large statue of a naked man, feet anchored to the ground by vines, arms extended towards the sky. The servant pressed his hand to a small blue panel on the wall beside the statue, and the tiling separated, revealing a luxurious suite.

      "This is yours for the duration of your visit. If you wish anything, or when you are ready to return to Lord Halil, I will be outside the door." He bowed deeply and exited.

      Blake prepared himself to face a furious torrent of verbal abuse but it never came. Avon stared at him, all expression wiped from the chiselled features, then turned away without a word, moving to look out onto the balcony adjoining the suite's main room.

      Unsure if his words would provoke Avon's anger, Blake was reluctant to speak first. Keeping an eye on the dark, silent figure, he explored the room. The plush carpet covering the floor echoed the statue outside. The rich fabric portrayed a beautiful young man, vines wrapped around his legs, arms stretched above his head as though bound. The muscles of the slim frame were tautly stretched and he was obviously erect. Shaking his head with no small degree of bemusement, Blake walked around, opening the doors to: a luxurious marble bathroom; a large closet full of various bits of clothing; and the bedroom. One eyebrow rose at the sight. The bed was huge, in the old four-poster style, covered with black silken sheets. Light filtered in through sheer curtains at the window. The carpet was thicker here, Blake bent to feel the soft texture; so very different from the starkness of their cabins on the Liberator, different too from his simple home on Earth. More along Avon's lines, he thought. Unbidden, a picture of Avon sprawled across the bed filled his mind. His breath caught at the intensity of his response and his heart began to pound. He was suddenly aware of Avon's presence behind him. Thoughts that had never before entered his mind, entered it now, only to have the image shattered by Avon's uncompromising question. "Well?"

      "Well what?" Blake asked in irritation. That was a mistake, it gave Avon an opening.

      "Just when," he inquired, with icy calm, "are you going to explain to Halil that I am not your slave to give to whomsoever you choose?"

      Damn Avon! Blake turned to face his adversary. "It's not like that, and you know it."

      Avon's words were clipped and deliberate. "Then just what is it like?"

      "I don't want to offend the man," Blake replied. He held up a hand to stall Avon's inevitable protest. "I'm sure he'll understand if I explain that Earth customs are different. I'll find a solution."

      Avon smiled, as if an amusing thought had crossed his mind. " _His_  customs demand a sleeping partner. Perhaps we should offer you up as the sacrificial lamb; Halil did seem to find you quite attractive."

      Blake's ears burned hot in embarassment, and Avon's obvious pleasure at his discomfort did nothing to make him feel any better. "Maybe I will," he said abruptly.

      Avon snorted. "I wasn't serious. The whole idea is obscene."

      "I need this allience, Avon. If it takes sleeping with Halil to achieve it, then maybe, just maybe, I'll do that."

      Avon glared at him angrily for a moment, then whirled away to stare out of the window. "You're a fool, Blake. You're allowing your desire to defeat the Federation to warp your mind. This is wrong, and you know it."

      Perhaps it had been a stupid thought: the idea of having sex with another man had never even entered his mind until today. Blake moved away from the bed, calling to Josa to take them to Halil. "I wouldn't worry too much," Blake said with a faint smile. "I hardly think that Halil will want my company when you so obviously suit his tastes." And mine, an insistent voice whispered inside Blake's head.

      "You hardly think at all," Avon sniped as he followed Blake and Josa down the long corridor, past more erotic tapestries, to a set of ornate wooden doors. Josa opened one and gestured them inside.

      Blake was momentarily stunned by the opulence of the dining chamber. Like the throne room, it was ornately furnished, luxurious materials complementing paintings and sculpture. Blake's gaze travelled along the table to where Halil sat. The marble table was filled, with the exception of two seats, one on either side of the Akhaian leader. He glanced over at Avon who seemed to blend in so well with their opulent surroundings. For all that he was as Alpha as Avon, Blake never felt comfortable in such luxury.

      "Welcome Lord Blake, Avon. Please join us." Halil gestured them forward, Blake to his right, Avon his left. They took their seats as food was placed before them. It smelled wonderful and Avon joined Halil in sampling the delicacies. Blake simply didn't feel very hungry. He could see how intently Halil was watching Avon eat as the whiteness of the technician's teeth tore into a piece of meat. Uneasily aware of his own unruly reactions, Blake tore his gaze away from Avon, returning it to his plate.

      "You do not find it pleasing, Lord Blake?"

      Blake started. Halil was staring at him in concern, Avon in amusement.

      "We can prepare whatever you wish."

      "That is not necessary, Lord Halil. I'm just not hungry." Blake swallowed. "However, I would like to discuss this evening's arrangements."

      Halil smiled. "Impatient? I'm surprised. With one such as Avon, I would think that you would be content."

      Blake flushed bright red, uncomfortably aware of both the unacted upon truth of that statement and Avon's amusement.

      "Lord Halil," Blake paused, trying to think of a delicate way of phrasing his thoughts. "Earth customs are different than yours. Avon and I -"

      As Blake spoke, Halil's smile slowly faded. "I see. Your relationship with Avon is based on his exclusivity. I am sorry, but I do understand."

      Blake watched Halil reach out, the Akhaian brushing his hand against Avon's cheek. Thankfully, Avon permitted it, but his tense disapproval was obvious.

      "Beautiful and wild ones are few and far between. However did you tame him?" Halil mused.

      Avon glared at Blake.

      "I haven't quite," Blake said with a mischievous grin.

      This time Halil's eyes were focused intently upon Blake and the rebel felt distinctly uneasy. He had not truly believed that Halil might find him desirable until Avon mentioned it. And now... Halil was a big man, clearly Blake's physical equal, and while his own reactions to Avon made it more than clear that he could be aroused by a man, he wasn't sure that he could submit to one. He doubted that Halil was the submissive kind, not with his air of authority, his aura of power.

      "We could make alternate arrangements, Lord Blake. Ones that would be mutually satisfying."

      Again Blake felt his face flush. Halil's hand was resting on his upper thigh, gently massaging at too tense muscles.

      "What," he croaked, "did you have in mind?"

      "An exchange between equals, to strengthen the ties between us."

      Too fast, it was happening too fast and Blake didn't know what to say, how to say it. Helplessly, he glanced over Halil's shoulder at Avon.

      The smaller man smiled maliciously, enjoying Blake's discomfort, relieved to be out of it himself.

      Bastard, Blake thought, his insides tightening with anger. The hand on his thigh had stilled, waiting for his response. Blake didn't want to, but he couldn't see any obvious alternative. They needed this base!

      Steeling his resolve, he met Halil's gaze. "I think that would be more than acceptable." Blake was rewarded both by Halil's pleased smile and by Avon's shocked expression. Blake let a small smile touch his own lips, even as he admitted to himself what his choice would entail. He would have his base and if sex with Halil would give it to him, so be it. Avon had obviously expected him to decline, to give up. Well, he was wrong, Blake thought, glancing up as Halil gave his leg a final pat and rose.

      "I will see you tonight then, Lord Blake. Josa will escort you when you are ready. I look forward to our evening."

      "As do I," Blake responded automatically.

      Without further word, Halil left and Blake thoughtfully began to eat, ignoring Avon's stare and his own nerves. What in the Nine Hundred Worlds had he been thinking of?

      The meat was spicy, some kind of dish that Blake had never eaten before. He washed it down with a glass of fruit juice - wine did not appear to be on the menu. The tart flavour of the juice helped him concentrate his thoughts. It occurred to Blake that he had no real idea what Halil expected of him. In what ways did sex between men differ from that between men and women? Well - he was going to find out.

      Avon was watching him. Blake knew that without looking up, knew too that he was going to have to face Avon's reaction sooner or later. Here at the dinner table in front of all the other guests was not the place though.

      Desert was some kind of fine pasta soaked in sugar syrup. He risked a glance at Avon. Sure enough, the other man was looking in distaste at the overly sweet confection he had just tasted. To hell with the waistline, thought Blake, and took a large spoonful just to annoy Avon. "Delicious," he said aloud.

      Avon snorted in disgust. "If you like it so much, you can have mine too. Anything for my Lord Blake."

      "I'd hate to deprive you," Blake protested with a smile.

      Avon stabbed a fork savagely into the tangled pasta, then pointedly left it lying on the plate.

      After the meal was over, Blake spent some time chatting to the other guests, discussing local affairs and politics. Avon stayed for the minimum time required for politeness, then vanished through an open door into the garden.

      Blake found him there twenty minutes later, walking along a narrow pathway beside a formally laid out bed of tulips.

      "Are you really going to go ahead with this farce?" Avon demanded.

      "Firstly," Bake replied, "it is not a farce, and secondly, yes, I do intend to go through with it. Damn it Avon, I need Halil's friendship."

      "And Halil?"

      Blake hesitated a second before answering. "He's not unattractive. I can survive for one night."

      "Then there's nothing else to be said. Is there?" Avon turned his back on Blake and jumped over a narrow waterway that flowed past the tulips in a shallow rectangular channel. Blake watched him go with mixed feelings.

      The evening came all too quickly. The entertainment provided by a small group of musicians did nothing to ease Blake's nerves, the music had a rhythm and style different from what he was used to, and it made him feel on edge. Avon sat on the far side of the room on another of the low divans and appeared to be enjoying it - either the music or Blake's discomfort - it was hard to be sure which.

      Blake came to his feet in a moment of decision. He was damned if he was going to let Avon unsettle him like this. Josa was waiting patiently by the door, Blake waved him over. "I would like to visit with Lord Halil."

      Josa bowed formally. "This way, My Lord."

      Blake glanced at Avon as he left, trying to read the expression in those dark eyes, and as always, failing to discern Avon's innermost thoughts. A sudden sprite of wickedness seized him. "Good night, my wild one," he murmured, and was rewarded by a flash of real hate. Contrariwise, that pleased Blake. He was doing this for Avon, so let Avon suffer a bit too.

      Josa led him through a number of narrow corridors that seemed to twist and turn through the depths of the palace. Some parts of the building were probably over a hundred years old. A final turn and a few shallow steps brought them to a chamber with an ornate door inlaid with octagonal patterns in mother of pearl. Josa opened the door with another bow and Blake entered.

      Halil got up from where he was seated cross legged on the floor in front of a small hexagonal table. The small computer on top of it looked oddly out of place. "Welcome." He held out his arms in greeting and crossed the room.

      Blake should have been expecting the embrace, but it caught him by surprise - that and the kiss that came with it. Oddly, it aroused him. There was a strength in Halil that was both disturbing and exciting at once.

      Halil's hand slid down from Blake's shoulders to the front of his trousers, and Blake stiffened in sudden embarrassment. Halil was cradling his balls with a familiar ease that was disconcerting. Blake jerked involuntarily backwards.

      Halil looked at him. "I thought as much."

      "What?" Blake was rather proud of the fact that he got the word out without squeaking.

      "You've never done this before. You and the dark one you denied me - you've never been lovers."

      Blake just stared for a moment, his face heating, mind racing for an answer. Halil merely waited, hand still caressing Blake through his trousers.

      "Why didn't you tell me, Blake?" Halil gestured with his free hand towards his little computer. "I've been looking into Earth traditions and sexual behaviour. Bisexuality is not your norm. You have never had sex with a man before."

      "No," Blake paused. "I didn't tell you because I thought you would be offended and we need your friendship."

      "I see." Halil released Blake, watching closely as the rebel stepped back a pace. "You offered yourself instead of your Avon. You must care about him a great deal."

      Blake tilted his head. "I couldn't ask Avon to do something that he wasn't prepared to do unless I was willing to do it myself."

      Halil smiled, moving to sit on a low divan, gesturing for Blake to follow. They sat together, as Halil caressed Blake's thigh, rubbing softly with his hand. "Such sacrifice." The tone was lightly mocking, enough like Avon's to make Blake shiver.

      "I didn't mean to imply..."

      Halil raised a hand to Blake's lips.

      "Don't. I understand, better than you do."

      Blake was puzzled. "Understand what?" His eyes widened as Halil's fingers gently traced their way up his jawline, carding through curly hair before pulling Blake's head down into a kiss that stole his breath. When Halil finally released him, his blood was pounding from head to groin.

      "Understand that." Halil whispered huskily. "I understand your response to me, how you would respond to your Avon if given the opportunity."

      Halil's strong arms were around Blake's shoulders and the rebel leaned into the embrace, wondering if Halil was right. Did he want this from Avon?

      "Avon was furious at the idea of being a  _gift_ ". I doubt that I'll ever be given this kind of opportunity with him." It seemed pointless to deny his desires at this point. His response to Halil had been rather obvious, even if he had surprised himself by it. He had always suspected his relationship with the surly computer technician was more than just friendship but he had simply accepted it, never exploring the sexual connotations until Halil expressed an interest in what Blake had always considered as his.

      Halil whispered in his ear. "I'm not sure Avon would be as reluctant as you think. Have you seen how he watches you? He was angry when you offered yourself to me. Perhaps it was just disapproval, but I think there was something more."

      This close to Halil, Blake was aware of the sexual chemistry slowly building between them. Would Avon ever submit to an embrace like this, to a kiss such as Halil had just given him? Even to think about it excited him. Was Halil right? Could Avon be attracted to him? What would he say to him in any case? He had never seduced a man before, couldn't even remember seducing a woman. Unconsciously, he tensed in Halil's arms.

      "You are not required to sleep with me, Blake," Halil said, misinterpreting the reason for his tension. "You are a virgin in this and I would not force you to do something which you are not prepared for. That you would offer is more than enough." Halil brushed his lips across the other man's brow.

      Blake kept his gaze lowered. His own arms were entwined with Halil's, their bodies pressed tightly together along his side. Perhaps - perhaps, sex with Halil was the answer. Learn what he would need to know to deal with Avon. Halil knew the situation, would treat him carefully, and then he would be able to approach Avon the same way. Slowly, he tightened his arms round the Akhaian leader, raising his head. "And if the offer still stands?" He awaited Halil's response with a mixture of trepidation and lust. It would have been have been better to be gazing into Avon's dark brown eyes, but it could still be good here with Halil.

      "If the offer still stands, then I accept. The choice is yours, Lord Blake."

      Blake looked directly at Halil. "I came here hoping for political gain. After so long dealing with the Federation and their kind, it can be hard to remember that men may still act from motives other than greed. You've helped to remind me that generosity and honour still exist. I'd like to stay." He ran a tentative finger along Halil's cheek bone. "This time, I'd like to stay both because I respect you, and," he shivered slightly as Halil's body pressed hard against him, "and, because I want to."

      Halil's hand slid down and squeezed Blake's buttocks. "You are worried that you acted in a manner worthy only of the Federation, but you did not. You tried to respect our local customs, instead of ignoring them, or trampling on them as the Federation would have done. I shall order Josa to arrange a woman for Avon. I would be remiss in my duties as a host if you had company for the night, and he did not."

      Blake stiffened abruptly. The idea of Avon with anyone else was horrifying. He tried to reason with himself. If he was taking pleasure in Halil's company, and he was sure now that it would be pleasure, then it was only reasonable to allow Avon the same enjoyment.

      "Don't worry," said Halil, misunderstanding, "should any child result from the union, it will be well cared for. Our gene pool is limited - we need fresh blood and your friend is both intelligent and beautiful."

      Blake tried to relax, but failed miserably. His earlier excitement was fast fading.

      "Ah!" said Halil, finally comprehending. "You are jealous. You do not wish to see your Avon with another?"

      Blake nodded reluctantly. "I know it's stupid. I know he probably doesn't even want me, but that's the way it is."

      "You want him faithful to you even when you are with me?"

      Halil's words echoed Blake's own thoughts. "I'm sorry," Blake said abruptly, "I can't go through with this after all."

      Halil sighed reluctantly and stood up. "Very well, give me a kiss for friendship's sake, and we shall spend the evening playing backgammon. I must ask you to remain here for at least an hour though: it would never do for the servants to know that you rejected me. I have to retain the respect of my people."

      He brought his lips close to Blake's as the rebel got up off the divan. Blake hesitated a moment and then kissed him. A casual kiss, that deepened as Halil's tongue forced its way between his teeth, as Halil's arms embraced him, and Halil's cock made its presence clearly felt against his thigh. Blake finally broke free with a moan, and staggered backwards half dazed. "Halil," he managed to say, "if you kiss your friends like that, what do you do to your lovers!"

      Halil spoke softly, "If you ever want to know, just ask me and I'll show you..."

      

      

Blake returned to the room he shared with Avon an hour later, having won one game of backgammon and lost two. In addition to being lucky with the dice, Halil had an interesting collection of dirty stories and some fascinating political anecdotes. All in all, he was a very absorbing man to be with.

      Avon looked up from the small terminal he was working at. "So you finally made it back?" he inquired sarcastically. "I trust you enjoyed yourself?"

      Blake tried to keep himself under control, he had an almost irresistible urge to smash Avon in the face. "We played backgammon," he replied tautly.

      Avon laughed crudely. "So the Lord Halil was not amused by your charms after all?"

      "He's an honourable man, Avon. Something  _you_  wouldn't understand."

      The smile on Avon's lips didn't reach his eyes. "Well now, you're the expert on honour. A pity you didn't decide to spend the rest of the night with your friend, then I could have spent the night in the bed instead of on the divan."

      "My return should hardly prevent you sleeping there. If Halil can resist my charms, I'm sure they'll have no effect on you." Blake's voice was as cold and brittle as Avon at his worst. "Since I'm the expert on honour, you shouldn't be worried about sharing my bed."

      Dark eyes glared up at the angry rebel as Avon rose gracefully, stepping closer, a typical intimidation tactic for him that usually fazed Blake not in the least. And this time it was no different, except that Blake was not in an open frame of mind. He could see Avon's anger, almost feel it as the smaller body crowded aggressively close. It fuelled his own rage: rage at Halil for making him recognize his desires; rage at Avon for arousing them; rage at himself for being unable to deal with them or with Avon. As soon as they were together, the tension had returned. "Don't, Avon."

      But his dark demon did not back off. Avon stood his ground. "Perhaps your honour is not quite so solid?"

      There was no mistaking the insinuating tone, Avon's mocking gaze having dropped away from Blake's face to the swelling tightness of his trousers. Mocking, challenging - what in heaven's name did Avon want from him?

      "Or perhaps you don't like the role of the ravished one?"

      Furious, Blake struck out, slamming Avon against the wall. Avon stumbled and Blake caught him, forcing the smaller man hard upright against the tilework. "Perhaps I don't. Do you?"

      Helplessly trapped by his own confused reactions, Blake tightened his grip, enjoying the flash of panic that crossed Avon's face, enjoying his physical control over the smaller man. Using his own weight to hold Avon in place, he held Avon's head firmly, mouth descending, his kiss brutal in its violent passion. But it wasn't enough, Blake wanted more. He felt Avon's resistance fade, a soft whimper escaping as Blake released the perfectly curved lips.

      Blake's eyes widened as he realized what he had been on the verge of doing: what Avon apparently would have let him do. He felt the tremors in the slight frame he still held and he tightened his grip for a second before relaxing his arms, leaning back to see his companion's face.

      Avon's eyes were closed, lips still parted with his harsh breathing, his face oddly innocent without the sardonic gaze. The heat of anger quickly fading, Blake was momentarily flooded with tenderness. He placed one hand against the smooth skin of Avon's neck, allowing it to drift up, tracing along one sculpted cheek bone. Blake watched as the dark lashes flickered, eyes opening slowly, blinking. But Avon didn't say a word. Merely waited.

      "I'm sorry," Blake offered.

      No response. Avon continued to stare, his expression totally blank and Blake felt a shiver course down his spine. Avon was going to hate him for this. Reserved, independent, self-controlled Avon facing Blake's unnatural desires. Watching Avon now, Blake wanted to hold him, posess him, devour him so that no one else could have him: so that Avon would want no one else. But Blake thought wryly, Avon had been openly disgusted by Halil's desires. That disgust presumably extended to Blake's own passion, but even Avon's derision would be preferable to this eerie silence.

      "I -" Blake floundered for the right words. They wouldn't come.

      "Sorry, Avon. I guess I should have spent the night with Halil."

      Caught in his own chastisement, Blake almost missed the flash of fury that crossed Avon's face the moment the words had left his mouth. But he could hardly fail to notice Avon's sharp intake of breath, particularly as it was accompanied by a hand seizing a fistfull of Blake's curly hair, yanking it hard enough to make his eyes water.

      "Damn you, Blake!" Avon snarled.

      And this time it was Blake who stood frozen in shock as the tables turned and it was Avon who gripped him hard, one hand tangled in his shirt, the other forcing his head down. It was Avon's lips bruising his, biting down sharply, making Blake gasp, Avon's tongue forcing its way inside, claiming Blake's mouth as his own. Desperate for air, Blake jerked his head away only to feel the hand in his hair tighten.

      Halil had been right then. Whatever Avon might or might not want for himself, it was certain that he didn't want Blake going to anyone else. Further rational thought seemed a waste of time, besides being increasingly difficult. Blake felt he ought to ask Avon to slow down and tell him just what the hell he wanted, but Avon held on, taking his mouth again until Blake didn't care.

      Until he just never wanted it to stop.

      When Avon finally released him, Blake could feel the excitement running right through his body. The muscles of his thighs were tight with tension, his breathing fast and shallow. Involuntarily, Blake glanced at the bed behind him, then back at Avon in open invitation.

      He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. His personal nemesis stood there, legs slightly apart, hands upon hips, head flung back, a defiant challenge upon his face. A devil, but a glorious one. Lucifer cast out of heaven - wild, beautiful and damned.

      That moment of quiet surrender seemed totally cast aside - forgotten, or suppressed?

      "Just how badly do you want me, Blake? How badly?"

      Blake tried to reason with him. "You want me too, Avon." Surely no man could have kissed him like that without genuine passion behind it.

      "So it would seem," Avon agreed casually. "But," a note of icy warning entered his voice, "you're not going to control me like that, Blake. You don't own me, and you never will."

      "Now you're being stupid, Avon. I don't want to control you. I've never wanted to control you." Liar, said a small voice at the back of his mind. Isn't that exactly what you want to do? Bind him to you, hold him, so that he won't love anyone else? Don't you want to take him, possess him? And wouldn't it be wonderful if he loved you in return, and helped you in your fight against the Federation instead of endlessly fighting you?

      "All right," Avon challenged him. "Get undressed. Lie down on the bed. On your back!"

      "Now, wait a moment!" Blake protested. This wasn't what he'd imagined. He wanted to take Avon, not to be taken by him. Belly up, with no protection, he would be almost helpless if Avon chose to try and hurt him.

      Avon laughed. "What's the matter, Blake? Changed your mind already? Or don't you trust me?"

      No, thought Blake. Here and now, I don't trust you. This is a new battlefield between us. Whoever wins here, it's going to affect everything else we do together. But I want you. How I want you. He reached out a hand to touch Avon on the cheek again.

      Avon slammed it down. "No!"

      "Why not?" asked Blake. "I'd rather make love to you than fight you."

      "Love," snapped Avon, "is a trap for fools."

      The fallen angel, Blake thought, but he had been innocent once, before the fall. What did Avon fear more, Blake, or himself? If he saw love as a trap, then it was a trap he knew. Just how much passion was Avon capable of? The answer had to be none, or everything. The thought was enough to make Blake go weak at the knees. Avon, passionate in surrender, brown eyes gazing into Blake's own, sweat gleaming on his body.

      Hell! Blake didn't even know what Avon looked like without his clothes on, and suddenly, it was very important for him to know. "Avon," he pleaded, suddenly short of breath, "let me see you. All of you. Please."

      He regretted the last word as soon as he had said it. The satisfied smile on Avon's face was enough to let him know that he'd lost face.

      "Well now," the devil replied, "you only had to ask." He stripped off his tunic, slowly and deliberately, teasing Blake with the subtle fluidity of his movement. The jumper followed, a sleeve at a time, before Avon finally eased it over his head. Pale skin, with a dusting of fine dark hair, a slender waist, and a pulse in Avon's throat that hinted at desire.

      Blake almost screamed in frustration, as Avon paused before placing his hands on the waistband of his trousers.

      "Is this what you want?" Avon asked, feigning innocence.

      "You know damn well it is!"

      Avon unfastened the waist of his trousers and let them fall to the floor. His cock strained obviously against the confines of his underpants. Slowly, he caressed himself, fondling his balls, causing Blake further agony, then finally, he removed the offending garment, leaving his cock standing proud and erect on its own.

      Eyes narrowed slightly, he looked at Blake. "Suck me!" he challenged.

      Blake stared, torn between fear and desire. How badly he wanted to do what Avon asked, to kneel at his feet, to take Avon in his mouth, to love him, pleasure him. But what did Avon really want? To fuck you, a tiny voice whispered, and you're tempted by it too. Am I, Blake wondered fleetingly, caught by the wild, dangerous beauty of his companion.

      "Avon, I..." Blake trailed off, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say.

      "You heard me, Blake. Take off your clothes and do it." Avon shifted slightly, his hips tilted invitingly. Eyes travelling up from crotch to face, Blake met Avon's gaze, ignoring the blush he could feel on his own face. He could have his control just as easily this way. Inside Avon or sucking his cock, he would still be the one controlling Avon's pleasure. Much better than being helpless under him.

      "All right." Blake whispered huskily. He stripped off hurriedly, not bothering with Avon's striptease act. Avon's eyes searched him, making Blake feel more naked than ever.

      Slowly, Blake sank down to his knees before Avon. He could feel Avon's hot gaze upon his shoulders and he raised his hands, placing one against the smaller man's hip, the other grasped the base of Avon's cock. He hesitated, swallowing tightly, despite his desire, still unsure of his actions.

      "Now, Blake," Avon hissed. Blake felt a hand grip his hair, bringing his face closer until his lips brushed against the satiny tip of Avon's cock. It felt wrong, Avon was still in control. Why must it be like this? Blake wondered, Why couldn't it be as I imagined, hoped?

      Opening his mouth, he tentatively licked at the cock in front of him. Salty moisture coated his tongue and he swallowed cautiously before taking it in. Avon's hand had slipped away and Blake felt more in control of himself. He sucked softly at first, tracing his tongue along the underside, listening attentively for Avon's response; he got it: in the tension of the body in front of him, in the choked off moans that Avon refused to release. Blake could feel his own erection, aching between his thighs, begging for its own release. But Avon's surrender to passion was what he desired now, more than his own satisfaction. Increasing the suction, Blake's hand slipped back, tracing across Avon's balls, cupping them, caressing them.

      Avon's gasp of pleasure was echoed by Blake's moan, Avon was thrusting deeply, too deeply for Blake's inexperienced throat. Blake tried to pull back, swallowing desperately. Avon's hands came back to his head, preventing him from pulling away. He could feel Avon's agony, close to the edge but not quite there. Not quite what you had in mind, Avon, Blake mused. Blake was the one on his knees but Avon was at his mercy. Blake slipped one finger back, just grazing the delicate entrance to Avon's body. He felt Avon thrust, forward again and back, Blake's finger just slipping inside the opening.

      A choked cry and Blake's mouth filled. Coughing with the force and volume, Blake swallowed as much as he could, pushing Avon away as soon as his hair was released. Breathing deeply, still painfully roused himself, Blake shakily rose, his eyes never leaving the body before him.

      Avon remained on his feet but leaning back against the wall, his breathing quieter now, his gaze fixed on Blake's cock. Blake flushed again at the silent appraisal, pleased to have been able to pleasure Avon but uncomfortable with the role he played, with the roles they had both played. Still he wanted Avon, now more than ever, with the throbbing in his veins, the pulsing of his cock. He moved towards the smaller man, reaching out.

      "No." The one word was softly but firmly spoken. For a moment, Blake stared in disbelief. No? After what he - they - had done Avon expected...what? That he leave? Well, Avon was going to get a surprise then because leaving was the last thing that Blake intended to do.

      "Yes - Avon. We have unfinished business, you and I. And I intend to finish it." Blake moved quickly, trapping Avon against the wall once more, the pale skin with its dusting of black hair a contrast against his own darker, hairless chest. Avon's brown eyes flashed but he remained silent, waiting.

      "So how do you want to continue this, Avon? On your knees? Or on your back?"

      "We aren't going to continue it." Avon's voice was firm, but Blake thought he detected a slight undertone of panic. "We've done enough."

      "I've done enough," Blake corrected. "Now you're going to do your part." He moved even closer to Avon, rubbing their bodies together, his hard cock pressing into Avon's leg.

      Avon turned his head sideways, deliberately moving his lips out of Blake's reach. "You can't make me do something I don't want to do."

      Blake slid his hands down to Avon's waist, measuring the other man's tension. Then bending down a little to suck an ear-lobe, he moved one hand back to take a nipple, and teased it gently between two fingers. Avon moved involuntarily, a slight shudder passing through his body.

      This was crazy, Blake thought angrily. Avon wanted this as much as he did, so why was he fighting? Did he want to be forced into submission? Somehow, that didn't seem like Avon. Anger abruptly took over. If this was a contest between them, Blake was going to win it. He hooked an ankle behind Avon's knee, jerked hard, and brought the smaller man crashing to the floor with himself on top. For one glorious moment, he had Avon totally at his mercy. He revelled in the sensation of the skin touching all along their bodies. His cock, trapped between them demanded movement. Avon was his, and Blake could take him whenever he wanted.

      Then he looked into Avon's eyes. No warmth, no lust, just that terrifying blankness. Blake felt his resolve waver in the face of that look.

      "Force me, Blake, and I'll kill you." It wasn't even a threat, just a bald statement of fact.

      Blake rapidly adapted his strategy. "All right," he conceded, "I won't force you, but I'm going to hold you here until you say, yes."

      Still holding Avon firmly down, he set to work. Fingers stroked over his companion's skin, until he felt the hairs begin to stand on end. He scratched Avon gently behind the ears, massaged his ear lobes and kissed him on the neck and shoulders; Avon's head began to move, tossing from side to side. As Blake felt his body with a firmer touch, Avon arched into the caress. The darker mark of a nipple was suddenly irresistible, Blake took one gently into his mouth, tasting it, teasing his tongue around it. An audible moan told him all that he needed to know. Smiling in quiet triumph, he slid a hand across Avon's ass, between his cheeks, and slipped a finger inside. Avon's breathing became ragged as he hung on the edge of losing his self control.

      Blake knew what he needed next. Halil had pointed out to him the dangers of intercourse without a suitable lubricant. There was a pot of cream on a small table beside the bed, Halil obviously believed in catering properly for his guests. It was just out of Blake's reach.

      He looked down at his victim. Avon's cock was awakening once more. Not hard yet, but giving away Avon's aroused state as clearly as his closed eyes and rapid pulse. Blake got up to get the cream, he was going to take Avon, and make him enjoy it.

      The sound from behind made him turn, his hand still outstretched for the cream. Avon was on his feet and heading for the door. Reacting almost without conscious thought at seeing the object of his desire escaping, Blake reached out, grabbed Avon by the waist, and spun him hard around in a circle causing him to fall half way onto the bed. Before Avon had a chance to recover from his awkward landing, Blake flipped Avon's legs onto the bed with the rest of him, and landed himself on top, pinning Avon with his own weight.

      "Oh no, Avon," Blake hissed, fighting to control the struggling, twisting body underneath him. "You've had your pleasure. Now it's time for mine."

      Avon's struggles intensified at his words. Blake could feel the increased tension, the fear, radiating from the smaller man. What are you afraid of, Avon? he wondered. Do you really think I'll hurt you? Blake shifted his grip, pinning down a wrist with each hand and Avon unwillingly stilled, waiting. Gently Blake pressed his lips to Avon's temple, traced them around his eye and along the delicate curve of the cheek bone. Avon squirmed.

      "Don't, Blake. I don't want this."

      "No?" Blake questioned, pulling back to stare deeply into unreadable black eyes. "Perhaps not. But I do, Avon. I want this. I want you - all of you. And," he added with a touch of deliberate malice, "if you're any good, I'm going to want you again in the future."

      Blake's lips came down hard on Avon's, controlling, possessive, bruising in the intensity of passion. He could feel Avon struggling to escape from under him and Blake revealed in it, letting one hand slip down behind Avon's back, cupping his ass, fingers massaging. Avon's struggles abruptly ceased, he moaned audibly and they broke their kiss gasping for breath. With a grin, Blake released him, and sat up for a moment, pausing for a moment to consider his companion.

      Avon was clearly furious, although he didn't try to make a break for it. Sprawled across the sheets, eyes glittering, muscles taut with tension and not a little anger, he made Blake ache with wanting him. To leash that passion, to own it, to tame it, the thoughts made Blake's head swim. His gaze dropping, Blake couldn't help but notice Avon's own arousal, cock half-hard without any assistance. However, as Blake leaned over him once more, Avon struck out, the blow snapping Blake's head backwards.

      "Damn you!" Blake snarled, tasting blood on his lip. Unthinking, he responded violently, slapping Avon hard enough to leave the imprint of his hand on pale skin. Fascinated for a moment, he watched the colour flow into the hand print. Avon's grab caught him by surprise. His arm caught and pulled over, Blake landed half on Avon, and half off him. Avon promptly continued his move by rolling over on top of Blake. This time it was Avon pressing down, Avon's mouth savage on his. Blake shivered at the role reversal, but paradoxically revelled in it. Avon was no longer fighting their passion, he was absorbed into it, and it felt wonderful. It'll be even better soon, Blake thought to himself, wrapping his arms round Avon's shoulders, forcing them to roll over again, until he was leaning over Avon once more.

      "Blake," Avon whispered huskily, one hand tangled in the curled thicket of Blake's hair. It was surrender of a sort, perhaps not exactly a yes, but probably the closest Avon would ever get to admitting his defeat. All Blake could see in the face below him was desire. The knowledge of that victory excited him. The physical battle between them had been exhilerating - Blake knew now that he could control Avon.

      He tightened his hold, letting Avon feel the strength of his passion, their erections caught between the slippery press of sweaty bodies.

      "Avon?" Blake breathed, sitting up on the bed, one hand reaching for the discarded jar of cream. Desire was one thing, but to take the final step without Avon's consent would be nothing short of rape. Avon grabbed the jar before him by way of answer, and Blake gasped as a cool slickness was spread along his cock, worked into the skin, and slowly massaged. The sensation was incredible, but he wanted more. Blake stared down into Avon's face and held out his hand. A faint glint came into the dark eyes and Avon relinquished the lubricant reluctantly.

      Blake slapped lightly on Avon's thigh to get him to move. "Roll over, I want your ass."

      "Make me," Avon whispered. A challenge or a request? It was hard to be sure. Perhaps it was both.

      "Is that how you want it?" Blake queried, then, not waiting for an answer, pushed Avon roughly over onto his front. Avon resisted a moment, testing his strength, then acquiesced and lay there, perfectly still, only the slightest tremor betraying his apprehension and desire; a shiver that increased as Blake's hand stroked the curve of his ass.

      Looking down at Avon lying trapped beneath his larger bulk, Blake felt a tightness in his chest, triumph mediated by a recognition of Avon's vulnerability; Blake would have to be careful not to hurt him. Scooping a generous amount of cream from the jar he coated his fingers, brushing them gently against the opening to Avon's body. He could feel its instinctive tightening as he pressed one finger in, but it went easily, with no protests from Avon. Spreading the cream as far as he could reach, Blake added a second finger, his free hand stroking Avon's back.

      "Avon?"

      "Just do it," Avon hissed. He arched up, forcing Blake's fingers deeper, moaning roughly at the unfamiliar intrusion.

      Responding to Avon's reaction, Blake withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his cock. Watching Avon carefully for signs of distress, he pressed in. The sensations were incredible, initially painful, Avon's muscles clamping down hard against him. Blake could feel him shudder, hear his gasp of pain.

      Blake paused, waiting for the pain to ease, for Avon to relax before he attempted to fully enter. One of his arms wrapped itself firmly round Avon's chest, the other slid down to the groin. Finding Avon half-hard again, Blake held him firmly, thumb circling the tip, smiling against Avon's back as he felt the other man harden to his touch. As Avon relaxed into the sensations radiating from his own cock, Blake shoved himself the rest of the way in.

      Sweat beaded both their bodies, Avon's breathing was ragged and uneven.

      "That's good," Blake whispered, withdrawing slightly before forcing himself in again.

      Avon moaned in painful pleasure and Blake could feel the muscles surrounding him contract and relax. Avon's cock was hard and demanding in his hand; Avon arched back against Blake then forward into the rebel's grip, and again, bringing himself to the edge. But it was Blake who pushed him over, tightening his grip on Avon's cock even as he drove deeper into his ass.

      Avon gasped at the same moment that Blake felt the muscles sheathing his cock spasm tight and then Blake came too, crying aloud with his release.

      Collapsing against his lover's sweat-silkened back, Blake panted softly until he felt Avon start to struggle under his weight. Carefully, he withdrew and lay beside Avon, pulling the smaller man into his arms, the dark head resting against his chest. Passion exhausted, Blake felt tenderness wash over him. Avon was so incredibly perfect, so good for him. Holding him now, Blake was aware only of the depth of his own feelings, the need to have Avon with him forever, not only in bed, but out it. They would be good for each other. Avon was so withdrawn, he needed the love that Blake would give him.

      Blake pressed a kiss into the silky damp hair before him. "You're mine, Avon. I love you, and I'm never going to let you go." He drifted off to sleep in quiet contentment.

      Somewhere in a distant dream, he was aware of an Avon who slowly left his side; an Avon who stood beside the bed; who reached out hesitantly, almost fearfully, to brush the soft tangled curls of Blake's hair for a moment; an Avon who soundlessly walked on the thick piled carpet to the door and exited. But that was all right, because it was only a dream...

      

      

Avon was missing in the morning. He'd probably woken up early and gone to find something to eat. It had been thoughtful of him not to wake Blake, but all things considered, Blake would rather have been with him. A faint memory of a dream came back to give him a moment's unease.

      Blake shrugged it off, and made his way to the dining hall in the hope of breakfast. Bowls of fruit were placed along the centre of the table, along with a selection of cheeses, meats, and bread rolls. No one else was present apart from two small boys Blake hadn't seen before. Relatives of Halil? Blake didn't know. When he spoke to them, they didn't reply, but chattered to each other in some tongue that he wasn't familiar with.

      Slightly irritated, wondering where Avon had got to, Blake heaped a plate with cubes of melon and some kind of unfamiliar fruit. Following the example of the children, he selected a soft white cheese to eat with the melon, and was mildly surprised at how well the flavour of the tart cheese combined with the sweetness of the melon. A hot cup of coffee from a dispenser at the end of the table helped to improve his mood, and by the time he was half way through his meal Blake felt relatively at peace with the world.

      Then Avon came in - accompanied by Halil.

      Avon was wearing a long, flowing, calf length robe totally unlike anything Blake had ever seen him wear before. A red and black geometric pattern adorned it, and a red cord tied around the waist served as a belt. Not dissimilar in style from what Halil was wearing, apart from the fact that Halil's robe had a floral design and was predominantly yellow in colour. Both men wore some kind of loose fitting trousers as an undergarment.

      Blake stared at the apparition. He was used to seeing Halil dressed in this style, but on Avon, it simply looked odd. Avon caught his stare and looked faintly embarrassed for a moment, then he stiffened up and gave Blake the benefit of one of his most 'see if I care' looks.

      Shifting his gaze from Avon to Halil, Blake became aware of what he hadn't noticed before. Halil was standing close to Avon. Too close. And Avon wasn't avoiding him. Blake knew with cold certainty where Avon had spent the rest of last night. The knowledge of betrayal was a knife twisting deep in his guts. The food on his plate suddenly lacked all appeal. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to be sick or to hit someone.

      Blake rose abruptly to his feet. "You bastard!" He wasn't even sure whether he was addressing Avon or Halil. "You know how I -" He stopped suddenly, aware of the smile of triumph on Avon's face. Blake's fists balled as he struggled to find the words that would wipe that smile off Avon's face forever.

      Avon turned casually to Halil. "If you don't mind, I'll go for a stroll in the gardens. I can eat later. I don't think Blake appreciates my company right now." He walked over to the open door, and out into the morning sunshine.

      Furious, Blake moved to follow him. There were a lot of things he wanted to say to Avon, and he didn't want an audience for the shouting match that he fully intended to have. Halil placed a hand on his sleeve. "Wait."

      Blake rounded on him angrily. "What the hell for?"

      Halil's grip tightened. "If you go after him now, you'll probably do something you'll regret."

      "Damn right I will."

      Halil spoke rapidly to the two boys in that odd language. One replied back in protest, but when Halil repeated the statement, they both left. "Now, Blake. We must talk."

      "Why?" he asked bitterly. "Do you still want to screw me as well as Avon?"

      "Is he your slave?"

      The question caught Blake off balance. "Of course not. That's not the question at hand." He pointed an accusing finger. "You knew how I felt about Avon, and you still made a pass at him."

      "Wrong, Blake. He came to me. I said 'No', so Avon asked me whether I thought you owned him. Do you own him?"

      "No!" Blake said in exasperation.

      "Then he's a free man and you must let him do as he wishes."

      Blake slumped down onto a chair and placed his head in his hands. "Why?" he asked of the floor.

      Halil walked around behind him and rested his hand on Blake's shoulder. "I don't know. He's not a man who talks about himself, so I can only guess."

      "And what do you guess?" Blake asked wearily.

      "I think he was afraid to become too close to you, to give you too much control over him. I'm not such a fool as to think myself irresistible. I don't think he was drawn to my charms, so much as fleeing yours."

      "It's much simpler than that," Blake said defeatedly. "Avon just hates me. He always has done."

      Halil challenged that statement. "Does he hate you? I asked him to stay here - a man with his technical skills would be very valuable to me. He refused, in spite of saying only a few minutes earlier that only an idiot would risk his neck on  _Liberator_  if he had anywhere safe to hide."

      Blake looked up. "Avon's always wanted to leave."

      "But he's still with you," Halil said gently.

      He sat beside Blake, placing an arm around his shoulders. Blake removed it, hunching up in protest. "Avon deliberately hurt me. He couldn't have done anything worse than this if he'd worked on it for weeks. I loved him." Blake rose abruptly to his feet and pointed an accusing finger. "I loved him, damn you."

      "And you don't any more." There was a curious sadness in Halil that Blake failed to understand.

      "No, I damn well don't. Oh," he laughed sarcastically, "we'll carry on working together, eventually we'll even fool ourselves that nothing ever happened, but I'll never love him again - not like that." Blake walked unsteadily towards the door opposite that which Avon had taken, casting one final backward glance at the still open garden door. "Damn you, Avon," he muttered painfully. "Damn you forever!"

      "Save your curses for another," whispered Halil silently. "Avon's damned already."


End file.
